“I have ascertained, my lord, beyond all possibility of doubt,” answered the valet, “that the assailants of the convent were a terrible horde of banditti, at that time headed by Stephano Verrina, who has since disappeared no one knows whither; that the Marquis of Orsini was one of the leaders in the awful deed of sacrilege, and that her ladyship the countess, and a young maiden named Flora Francatelli, were rescued by the robbers from their cells in the establishment. These ladies and the marquis quitted the stronghold of the banditti together, blindfolded and guided forth by that same Stephano Verrina whom I mentioned just now, Lomellino (the present captain of the horde), and another bandit.”
“And who is your informant? how learned you all this?” demanded the count, trembling with the excitement of painful reminiscences reawakened, and with the hope of speedy vengeance on the guilty pair, his wife and the marquis.
“My lord,” said Antonio, “pardon me if I remain silent; but I dare not compromise the man——”
“Antonio,” exclaimed the count, wrathfully, “you are deceiving me! Tell me who was your informant—I command you—hesitate not——”
“My lord! my lord!” cried the valet, “is it not enough that I prove my assertions—that I——”
“No!” cried the nobleman; “I have seen so much duplicity where all appeared to be innocence—so much deceit where all wore the aspect of integrity, that I can trust man no more. How know I for certain that all this may not be some idle tale which you yourself have forged, to induce me to put confidence in you, to intrust you with gold to bribe your pretended informant, but which will really remain in your own pocket? Speak, Antonio—tell me all, or I shall listen to you no more, and your servitude in this mansion then ceases.”
“I will speak frankly, my lord,” replied the valet; “but in the course you may adopt——”
“Fear not for yourself, nor for your informant, Antonio,” interrupted the count, impatiently. “Be ye both leagued with the banditti yourselves, or be ye allied to the fiends of hell,” he added, with fiercer emphasis, “I care not so long as I can render ye the instruments of my vengeance!”
“Good, my lord!” exclaimed Antonio, delighted with this assurance; “and now I can speak fearlessly and frankly. My informant is that other bandit who accompanied Stephano Verrina and Lomellino when the countess, Flora, and the marquis were conducted blindfold from the robbers’ stronghold. But while they were yet all inmates of that stronghold, this same bandit, whose name is Venturo, overheard the marquis inform Stephano Verrina that he intended to remain in Florence to obtain the liberation of a Jew who was imprisoned in the dungeons of the inquisition: and this Jew, Venturo also learnt by subsequent inquiry from Verrina, is a certain Isaachar ben Solomon.”
“Isaachar ben Solomon!” ejaculated the count, the whole incident of the diamonds returning with all its painful details to his mind. “Oh! no wonder,” he added, bitterly, “that the marquis has so much kindness for him! But, proceed—proceed, Antonio.”